


Homecoming

by mrs_d



Series: Snailed It! [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Sam couldn’t help it; it’d been almost a week since they’d been alone together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my WIPs folder for over a year now, so I decided to blow the dust off and finish it up to close out the series. Enjoy!

Riri’s motorcycle was parked in the drive when their cab pulled up in front of the house.  Sam hopped out and went around back to get their luggage from the trunk while Steve settled up with the driver. He reached for his portfolios when he stepped out of the car, and Sam handed them over, even though they weren’t heavy; he knew Steve wanted to carry them himself.

“Riri?” Sam called, as he opened the front door.

“In here,” came his student’s voice from the kitchen. “Just cutting up some lettuce for Cap and Falcon.”

“Cool,” said Steve.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam added. He set down their bags and took off his shoes. Beside him, Steve was doing the same, bent forward to loosen the laces of his blue sneakers.

Sam glanced over, then let his eyes linger. He traced the curve of Steve’s spine, the way his pert little ass sat snugly in those tight black jeans. Sam couldn’t help it; it’d been almost a week since they’d been alone together. First, Steve was away at his conference, and then they’d spent three days in Brooklyn with Steve’s best friend practically glued to their side the whole time.

Steve straightened up, sending a look over his shoulder that told Sam that he knew exactly where Sam’s eyes had been a second ago, and that it wasn’t accidental. _Cocky little punk,_ Sam thought fondly.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tonight, Dr. Wilson,” Riri said, startling Sam out of his thoughts and reminding him that they weren’t alone yet.

“Grabbed the early train instead,” Steve answered for him. “What with the holiday and all, we decided to make it a little easier on ourselves.”

“Oh yeah, happy birthday, Professor Rogers,” Riri added, heading towards the snail tank with a little bowl of lettuce. “Must be pretty cool to have fireworks every year, huh?”

“Uh, thanks, yeah,” Steve said distractedly. They hadn’t actually seen any fireworks over the weekend, since the sound made Bucky jumpy — like Riley, the guy had too many memories of the Middle East to enjoy casual explosions. Instead, they’d spent yesterday watching Pixar movies with the volume really loud.

“Any eggs?” Sam asked, to change the subject.

Riri frowned down into the tank as she sprinkled some lettuce along the bottom. “Doesn’t look like it. There weren’t any on Saturday when I checked, either.”

“Damn,” said Sam. He joined Riri at the side of the tank and crouched down to speak to the snail directly. “Come on, Falc,” he encouraged them. “Don’t you wanna mate and have babies?”

“Maybe they’re ace,” Riri commented.

Sam looked up, confused. “Ace?” he repeated.

“Asexual,” Steve clarified.

“Snails aren’t asexual,” Sam protested.

Steve didn’t seem to hear him. He pulled some bills from his wallet and held them out. “We agreed to twenty bucks a day, right, Riri?”

“Uh, I think we actually said fifteen,” she corrected him, hesitating. “It’s not like I did much. Just got your mail and checked in on them.”

“Well, we can call it a tip,” Steve said with a smile, and Riri took the money. “Put it in your MIT fund. Just because you didn’t get in this year doesn’t mean you can’t start saving up for next year.”

“Thanks, Professor Rogers,” said Riri, sounding shy.

Sam was a still a few steps behind the conversation. “Snails aren’t asexual,” he said again, and Steve and Riri looked over at him, puzzled. “I mean, some freshwater species are, but most are hermaphroditic, so they don’t reproduce asexually. It’s a common mistake,” Sam elaborated.

Riri was staring at him. Sam realized he’d been using his teaching voice, and felt his face heat with embarrassment. Steve smiled at Riri, then at Sam, a little indulgently.

“Babe, I know you’re a biologist,” he began, “but—”

“But we didn’t mean that kind of asexual,” Riri finished with a little laugh. “I meant asexual, as in not attracted to other people sexually.”

“As in Bucky,” Steve added in a lower voice.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, as something clicked into place. “Is that what he said to that girl who asked him out at Starbucks yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed. He cocked his head curiously. “Why, what did you think he said?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “The guy mumbles like a son of a— a gun,” he redirected, with a glance at Riri, who rolled her eyes.

“You know I’m almost 20, right? I can handle a few swear words.” She tucked Steve’s money into her pocket and gathered her curls into a ponytail at the base of her neck. “Anyways, I’m outta here,” she said, stepping past Steve to get to her boots and helmet. “Key’s on the counter. Let me know if you need me to snail-sit any other days this summer. Or if, you know, you get a real pet at some point.”

“Hey,” Sam protested, but Riri just laughed as she opened the door.

“Later, professors,” she called over her shoulder.

“Bye,” said Steve. Sam waved and shut the door behind her.

A moment later, the rumble of Riri’s motorcycle announced her departure. Steve made his way to the window, flicking aside the curtain to watch her go, as Sam locked the door.

“So,” he said, turning around.

“So,” Steve echoed, with a suggestive look. He sauntered over to Sam and laid a hand on his side. “What do you want to do now?”

Sam answered him with a kiss. Steve opened to it right away, and Sam was flooded with the taste of his peppermint gum. He walked Steve backwards, until his back was pressed the door, and bent to get his lips on Steve’s neck. Steve moaned and shifted, his hands coming up Sam’s back, his dull nails scraping the skin.

Sam felt a shiver roll through him, and he raised his head to find Steve’s mouth again. Steve squirmed — Sam could feel the weighty presence of Steve’s dick, firming up behind his zipper. He shifted his hips, gave them both a little friction, pulling back just enough to watch Steve’s Adam’s apple bob as he gulped.

 “God, I want you,” Steve said huskily, when he caught Sam looking.

Sam hummed in agreement and started to roll their hips together in a slow circle. The contact was making him dizzy, and they hadn’t even taken off their clothes yet, but he liked the tease, and he knew Steve liked it, too.

“Sam,” Steve half-sighed finally.

Sam kissed him again for that, hard and wet and deep, licking into Steve’s mouth the way they both liked it, swallowing the small sounds that escaped Steve’s throat. He worked his hands between Steve and the door, getting a grip on his ass like he’d wanted to all week. He pulled Steve forward a little, and like Steve read his mind, he hopped up, wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist.

Sam’s breath caught, and he had to pull away just to breathe. Steve’s jeans were stretched so tight Sam thought they were going to burst at the seams, and he could feel every inch of Steve’s slender cock, rubbing up against his own. The fabric of Sam’s boxer shorts was getting slick, the head of his dick was achingly sensitive, and the indirect friction was maddening.  

“Too many layers,” he muttered, stepping back from the wall and carrying Steve with him. Steve was heavier than he looked — small but wiry, as Riley called him — but Sam didn’t mind the strain. He needed their clothes off, _now,_ and he’d have flown them to the bedroom if he could.

Steve yanked his t-shirt off with one hand as they made their way down the hall, and tossed it in the direction of the living room. It didn’t quite make it, but Sam had other things to think about besides neatness right now. Steve’s nipples, for example. As he stepped into the bedroom, he tried to bend down to taste them, but he overbalanced, and Steve slipped out of his arms. He stumbled back a step, laughing, and landed on the bed.

“Good coordination there,” Steve commented, leaning back on his elbows to watch Sam pull off his shirt and unzip his pants.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” Sam countered.

Steve laughed again and took his jeans off in one quick motion. Sam joined him on the bed, crawling on his knees until he was positioned directly above Steve. He slid a hand up, over Steve’s toned and tattooed arms, across the rope of neck muscle that Steve strained when he spent too many hours at his drawing table, up into the short, soft hair of Steve’s slightly-too-long undercut. Steve rolled his head into the touch, and kissed the sensitive skin of Sam’s wrist, flicking his tongue out between his lips.

The warm wet touch brought Sam out of his daze, and he smiled down at Steve. “Just needed a minute,” he murmured.

“Me too,” said Steve. He raised his hands to Sam’s face, pulled him down and kissed him soundly, unhurriedly. Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, he surrendered to the sensation; there was nothing in the world except his body and Steve’s body, moving together in smooth tandem.

“I love you,” Steve said, when they broke apart to breathe. “I want you inside me.”

His hands ran restless circles over Sam’s skin, swirling his fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. The touch sent a cascade of chills through Sam’s body, amplifying everything.  Sam groaned, the urgency of sex rushing back at once, and lifted himself up before he could give into the impulse to rub off against the mattress.

“Okay,” he said, laying one last kiss across Steve’s lips before leaning over to grab their supplies from the nightstand.

They rushed as much as they dared; Steve wasn’t exactly patient with his body, but Sam sucked his dick as he fingered him, taking enough time to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt. Finally, when Steve was panting and cursing under his breath, Sam slicked himself up and slid inside.

“Damn,” he breathed, when he’d bottomed out.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. His eyes re-opened, and Sam got a little lost, the way he sometimes did when Steve looked at him, when he knew that Steve was seeing him, all of him, the way that nobody ever had. It felt like a well had opened up in his chest — it was bubbling, and it was warm, and it was everything.

“I love you, too,” he managed, as he started to move, rocking in and out of the tight grasp of Steve’s body.

He was too worked up to last long, but he managed to get one still-slippery hand between them, enough to pull clumsily at Steve’s cock. Steve shuddered at the touch and clenched around Sam. He was just as close as Sam was, and Sam didn’t have it in him to tease. He jerked Steve off as he fucked him, steady and hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall.

“Sam, _Sam_ —” Steve gasped, and Sam would know that he came even if it weren’t for the hot splash of fluid between their bodies. He knew Steve’s pleasure almost as well as his own, and he didn’t let up, riding the sensation until his momentum carried him over the edge, too.

Steve kissed him through the aftershocks. Sam’s head drooped when they finally faded, and he slumped forward. Steve chuckled and brought a hand up to stroke the side of his face.

“Mmph,” Sam said, too exhausted for words.

“Yeah,” said Steve, breathless.

After a second, Sam rallied enough to pull out and roll over. Steve curled up close to him, his head on Sam’s chest, and Sam slung an arm around his shoulder to keep him near.

“It’s good to be home,” Steve said.

Sam kissed Steve’s forehead and closed his eyes. “I couldn’t agree more.”


	2. Coda

Sam slept in the next day, and Steve did, too, for once. They spent the afternoon unpacking and doing laundry, heading to the grocery store in the early evening, re-stocking the fridge. They seemed to be out of everything, despite only being gone for a few days.

On his way through the house, Sam glanced in the snail tank and noticed something, a little white smudge in the corner. He crouched down to get a closer look, and that was where Steve found him a minute later.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Sam. He looked up at Steve’s worried face and grinned. “We’re gonna be granddads.”

**Author's Note:**

> The asexual snail joke comes from [this](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com/post/179618778674), and if you're interested, you can follow the adventures of Nottingham University's left-coiled snails on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/leftysnail).


End file.
